Cold Winds, Black Wings
by TheLordOfLightning
Summary: When the cold winds die, and the last dragon flies. The Dragonborn comes to pull Skyrim from the brink. Jon Snow in Skyrim. Post Season 8!Jon.
1. The Dragonborn Comes

Jon Snow, Ex-King in the North, sat in the swaying cart as it headed north from White Harbor, Longclaw set between his legs with his wrists wrapped in shackles. The cart driver, a northerner named Martin, hummed a strange tune as they were passing through a large empty plain.

Jon closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about his life after his death at the hands of his Black Brothers. He wishes he could change what happened to Daenerys, he wished he could take back his betrayal.

But he couldn't.

He could only sit in this cart, as the sun slowly set. Turning the blue sky vibrant shades of orange and red.

He opened his eyes when the cart driver stopped his little tune and turned his head towards the former king. He asked, with a surprisingly sophisticated accent, "So, what do you think of the new King. Bran the Broken I've heard they're calling him."

Jon was silent for a moment, the man clearly didn't recognize him. Few would, his hair matted and greasy, his beard fuller than he'd ever let it be, after nearly two months in the Black Cells. Clearing his throat, he responded by saying, "I think he will do just fine as King, few are as... knowledgeable as Bran Stark."

Jon didn't truly know how he felt about the boy turned King he'd grown up knowing. He could be a great king, aware of every hardship his subjects dealt with and aiding them when they needed it. But Jon knew how... emotionless his cousin had become. He may allow too many sacrifices for the greater good.

Jon shook his head of these thoughts as Martin brought the cart to a stop under a small canopy of trees.

After half an hour, the fire was lit and he was sitting next to it, his chains wrapped around an ironwood tree nearby.

Martin sat next to the fire, nibbling on a chunk of cheese, and was humming that strange tune.

"What are you humming? I've never heard it before."

"A song those of my home would sing," Martin said with a small smile on his face.

"What are the words?"

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to sing it, we don't exactly have any other entertainment do we?"

Martin wrapped his cheese in some cloth and set it aside. Shifting into a more comfortable position he cleared his throat and began singing.

"_Alduin's wings, they did darken the sky._"

Jon's eyes drifted to the fire as he listens to the man's steady voice.

"_His roar fury's fire and his scales sharpened scythes. Men ran and they cowered and they fought and they died. They burned and they bled as they issued their cries._"

Everything seemed to darken except the fire, as the fire began glowing brighter and brighter.

"_Dovahkiin Dovahkiin naal ok zin los vahriin__Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal __Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan __Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal_

_We need saviors to free us from Alduin's rage. __Heroes on the field of this new war to wage. __And if Alduin wins man is gone from this world. __Lost in the shadow of the black wings unfurled."_

Jon's mind slowed to the pace of a snail, only thoughts were of the song.

_"But then came the Tongues on that terrible day. __Steadfast as winter, they entered the fray. __And all heard the music of Alduin's doom. __The sweet song of Skyrim, sky-shattering Thu'um._

_"And so the Tongues freed us from Alduin's rage. __Gave the gift of the Voice, ushered in a New Age. __If Alduin is eternal, then eternity's done. __For his story is over and the dragons... are gone._"

Jon's eye's shut and his world went dark.

_**"For his story is over and the dragons... are gone."**_

* * *

Jon woke up within a haze, he was confused. He knew he was supposed to be in a cart, but he remembered being alone. Now there were 3 other men with him, with two of the men seemingly arguing with the cart driver who was no long Martin it seemed.

"Something's wrong with him, he should have woken up by no... Oh, he's finally awake."

"What... Where am I!" Jon blurted out, coming to the realization that he had no clue where he was.

In front of him were two men, one with golden hair and another with auburn hair.

The one with blonde hair spoke first, "On the road to Helgen. After the damned Empire ambushed us crossing the border, they found you in a bush, passed out and in rags and chains already around your wrists."

The auburn-haired man looked ready to burst at this point and started speaking loudly, "You and I don't belong here! If it wasn't for the damn Stormcloaks I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now!"

Jon heard a grunt and finally noticed the man in armour beside him, he had dirty, blonde hair, and a gag in his mouth.

"Watch your tongue Horse-thief, your speaking to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King of Skyrim!"

The cart driver swung his head back towards them and shouted, "Shut up back there!"

Everyone in the cart fell silent as the cart continued along the road.

Jon's mind was trying to process everything that had been said.

'The Empire? Stormcloaks? Where in the old gods am I?'

The cart was silent as it slowly made its way to the stone-walled village at the end of the road. The blond man across from him looked wistful as they neared the front gate. A man in ornate armour was speaking to what Jon could only describe the golden-skinned woman.

Jon could feel the beginnings of a massive headache coming on. He closes his eyes tightly, wishing with all his heart that he would wake up and be back on that cart, with the strange driver and his strange song.

The cart lurched forward as it came to a stop, shaking Jon from his thoughts and filling him with dread as he saw the executioner and the block. Sighing, he followed the others as they stepped off the cart and formed a rough line.

"Lokir of Rorikstead!" The brown-haired man standing next to the female officer shouted out.

One of the men from his cart stumbled forward with a look of fear. The terror in his eyes betrayed his actions before he began his sprint past the officer.

"ARCHERS!" The woman shouted out before the man ran passed the second house. Half a dozen arrows rained down, hitting the fleeing man and sending him to the ground with a grunt.

Jon watched on as a soldier walked up the now-corpse and check for any signs of life. The soldier looked to the officer and shook his head before he started dragging the man toward a cart.

"Ralof of Riverwood!" The man called out, his voice a little quieter than before.

The blond man beside him walked forward, muttering about how he hated lists.

Person after person was called forward until it was just Jon that was left. The man motioned for him to come forward, the officer next to him looked annoyed at the delay and was glaring at Jon.

"Who...are you?" The man asked not unkindly.

"Jon Snow..." Jon said tiredly.

The man looked up and down his list and flipped to the next page. He looked confused and looked back up the Jon.

"And where are you from, Jon Snow?" The man asked.

"I'm from Winterfe... um," Jon said quickly before realizing that the man probably had no idea where that was.

"Winterhold? That explains the lack of documentation. Well, it doesn't matter, he goes to the block." The officer said.

"By your orders Captian." The man looked resigned as he turned towards Jon.

"I'll make sure your remains or returned to Winterhold, Kinsmen."

Jon nodded and made his way towards the line of rebels.

He watched on as a man was brought forward and executed. In the distance, Jon thought he heard the roar of a dragon, but he pushed the thought aside as he put it down to his growing headache.

Another man was executed, then a woman, then two more men, before Jon was at the front of the line.

"Next prisoner!" The officer called out as a soldier grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him roughly toward the bloodied block.

As the was forced to kneel down, he turned to the man in the ornate armour. This man was clearly in charge, this was the man who put him to death. Jon resisted as the soldier attempted to man him bend over on the block, and looked into the man's eyes.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword," Jon said defiantly, remember the lesson his father... no, his Uncle had taught him.

The man looked ashamed for a brief moment. He quickly cleared the emotion from his face and turned to the executioner.

"Get on with it."

The soldier shoved his foot on his back, forcing him to bend over the block. Much closer this time, Jon heard the roar of a dragon. Closing his eyes, Jon waited for the axe to fall.

Suddenly, a mighty crash resounded throughout the courtyard. Jon's eyes flew open, and he gasped as he saw a dragon. It was different from the ones he'd seen before, but one thing was perfectly clear.

The beast was angry.


	2. The Cave

**AN: Sorry for the long wait, shit been happening and only now have I had enough free time to write again. I've updated the first chapter for grammar as well. Also yes, I skipped some parts. I tried writing it but it was mind-numbing.**

* * *

Jon brought his rusted blade up, blocking the blade of the snarling man in front of him. Pushing the blade to the side, he smashed the rounded pommel into the man's face. Screaming, the man fell to the ground, dropping his blade and clutching at his now broken nose. Jon brought his blade up and set it against the man's neck and drove it down, cutting off the screams and ending the fight.

Whipping around, he watched as Hadvar pulled his blade from the chest of another 'Stormcloak'. Gazing into the brightly lit pit in the large, underground room, he watched as a third man was slain by the, as of yet, unnamed assistant to the torturer, his sword buried through the chest of his foe. Pulling his blade out, his opponent dead before hitting the dirt.

"Come on Jon, this way takes us into a cave that leads out," Hadvar said, standing up and grabbing a nearby torch before leading the trio to the corridor.

Pulling the lever, a small drawbridge lowered clearing the path to the cave. The group walked forward and down a small set of stairs. Behind them a thunderous rumbling sent their heads whipping backward, the men bringing their weapons up in an instant. The corridor they had walked through had collapsed, blocking the way back.

"Shit," Jon said, tired and bruised."Well, I hope there's a way out farther ahead. If not, we'll be food for the spiders."

"Aye, there is, but I doubt anyone has used it in decades," Hadvar said, his eyes worried.

Stepping off the crumbling staircase, the Torturer taking the lead as they continued through the trickling stream.

The cave grew dark lit only by Hadvar's torch, shadows streaming across the wet cave walls.

Calling backward, the Torturer asked nervously, "Hadvar, how long do you think we're going to be in this damned cave?"

"Not long I think, no more than ten minutes."

"That's good, I've heard stories of Frostbite Spiders living in caves like th-AH ONE OF 'EM HAS ME!" That man yelped, flailing his arms. He fell into the cold stream.

Jon stared in shock. The man was covered in cobwebs, more than Jon had ever seen. Hadvar turned to Jon and passed him the torch, "Hold onto this for a second." He said before rushing to the flailing man.

"Calm down man, it's just some cobwebs," Hadvar said calmly as he tries to pull the cobwebs from the Torturer's face.

Jon looked ahead of them and saw the path they were following was almost completely filled with cobwebs. Only a narrow tunnel was free of the webs from them to walk down.

"Damn spiders," The Torturer said loudly drawing Jon's attention back to the man."Bloody menaces." Jon's lips curled upward at the sight of the flustered man.

"I'm staying in the back now, see how you lot like getting a face full of webs."

Shaking his head, Jon handed the torch back to Hadvar and slowly made his way to the tunnel. Ducking his head under the cobwebs, he heard a faint series of clicking sounds. He whipped his head around looking for the source, only to find Hadvar helping the man stand up.

Shaking his head he knelt on the damp, web cover ground as the two others made their way to him.

"This tunnel seems to be the only way out. We should be alert, who knows who or what could be down there."

"Aye, chances are there will be a couple of Frostbite Spiders," Hadvar said, shuddering when mentioned the spiders.

Jon nodded along with the others and started walking down the dark tunnel. The narrow space remained almost completely a dark as Jon took the lead, Hadvar close behind home the torch and the Torturer in the rear.

* * *

'Damn caves,' Jon thought as he felt his head brush against the tunnel wall, his hair quickly becoming coated in slime and dirt. Further down the tunnel, He spotted a glimmer of light.

"Light ahead," Jon whispered to those behind him.

As they continued along, the light growing ever larger, he heard the drawing of a sword. Turning around he saw that it was just Hadvar. Quickly following his companion's action, Jon notes the poor balance of the weapon and longingly remembered Longclaw, the ancestral blade of House Mormont.

'If I'm here is it still sitting in that field, forgotten by all. Or had some murderer gotten their filthy hands on it.' Jon thought briefly before he was suddenly he noticed that he'd made it to the end of the tunnel.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light of the cave, he realized the room was filled with webs. To the left, he saw a path of some sort leading downward.

He stepped further into the cave and the other followed.

"By the divines! I've never seen such a large nest!" The Torturer said loudly.

Jon was starting to get nervous, 'The spiders that made these webs must truly be huge,' he thought, hearing that same clicking sound, but much louder.

"Where are the beasts though? Usually, they don't stray far from their nests," The Torturer said, walking into the Center of the room and looking around."There's nothing here." He finished a confused look on his face.

The clicking noise grew louder, and Jon was sent flying across the room. He felt the sharp pain of being cut on his back.

His eyes shot to where he had been standing, in his place was a massive, blue-grey spider. It's front legs tipped with wicked sharp talons, it's fangs seemed to drip a sickly, brown venom. It seemed to lean back before letting a shrill screech and lunging forward at him.

Rolling to the side, he got to his knee and slashed at the arachnid. He felt the sword hit, and one of the spider's legs was sent flying into the cave wall. Green blood leaked from the stump of the limb.

This seemed to only anger the bug, as it screeches again and lunged at him even quicker than before. Dropping to the ground, the bug flew over him and smashed into the wall behind him.

Jumping to his feet, he rushed the arachnid and hacked his blade into the midsection of the bug, severing the abdomen from the rest of the body. Screeching, the spider flailed around before curling up and became quiet. Spinning around, he saw his companions in battle with three other arachnids.

The Torturer was taking on a smaller spider and didn't seem to be fairing too well. His face was cut up and he had two large puncture marks on his thigh.

Hadvar seemed to be dealing with the attack a little better. Only sporting a shallow slash on his arm and cut across his chest, despite facing two spiders, one of similar size to Jon's slain foe and another smaller one.

Making his decision, he rushed to Hadvar. Making a wild swipe at the large spider he took off one of its hind legs. The spider stumbled and jumped backward, landing in the middle of the room.

Screeching it slowly backed up, Jon slowly following.

'Come on, jump at me.' Jon thought, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword. His thought of his previous bout and the way he'd beaten the arachnid.

As if reading his mind, the spider leaped at him.

Rolling under it, he spun around and stabbed upward into the abdomen of the arachnid. His sword was pulled from his grip as it slid into the spider Screeching, it flailed before joining its brother or sister in death.

He turned toward where he'd last seen the Torturer to seem the man laying under the spider he was fighting. The spider looked as if it was eating the man, causing Jon's eyes to widen. Jon rushed to him, his sword lay forgotten. Grabbing one of the many legs of the grey arachnid, Jon swung the bug away, sending it into a nearby wall where it lay still, its legs slowly curling up around a dagger plunged into its abdomen. Turning to the man he found him still breathing and whole except for two more puncture wounds on his shoulder.

He turned to Hadvar to see him finishing off the smaller spider.

"Damn thing got me twice," The Torturer said, his lips turning blue and face going pale."I'm done for."

Jon knelt next to the man, his hand on his uninjured shoulder. "I'm sorry," Jon said, looking the man in the eye.

"It's fine, I should have spent more time in the training yard." He said, his face wincing as he sat up.

Looping his arm under the Torturer, Jon dragged him toward a part of the wall untouched by the web. Leaning him against it, Jon noticed Hadvar making his way over, his face sad.

The Torturer reached into his pocket and pulled out two crumpled letters. "Hadvar," he said his eyes staring at the man with intent. "Make sure this gets to my family in Falkreath."

"Of course."

"A-and this one to Delacourt, if he's still in the Inn." He said, indicating a specific letter.

"Whatever you need."

He seemed to relax and let his arms fall as Hadvar took the letter. A small smile appeared on his face, "Do you think I'll make it to Sovngard? That I'll feast in the great halls of Shor himself?"

Hadvar stared at the man, his face unreadable, "Of course, you've died a noble death in the glory of a battle well fought. You'll feast as an honoured guest of Shor himself."

The man smile widened and he lightly laughed, before he spoke quietly.

"That's good I guess..."

Jon looked, as the man's eye's slowly shut and he let out a long breath.

He didn't breathe again.

Jon sat silently as Hadvar bowed his head in respect.

Hadvar looked up after a few minutes and looked to him, "Come on, we should be near the exit."

Nodding, he followed behind the man as he walked towards the path leading down. The path turned bright as the duo made their way along. Small holes in the cave roof letting in bright pillars of light, illuminating the way forward. The path had lead to a large cavern, with a large stream running through it. Looking at the far end of the cave, Jon spotted a large brown mass. Its body slowly expanding and shrinking with its breaths.

"Hadvar," Jon said, catching the man's attention, "There's a bear."

The man's eyes widened and a quiet, "Damn," slipped out, "Neither of us is in any condition to fight a bear right now." He looked toward the bear and scanned the area.

Pointing to a small path next to the stream, he said, "If we're quiet we should be able to make it past."

Jon nodded to the man, and dropped into a crouch and walked across the small bridge and towards the path. Walking slowly, he still heard the slight crunching of the gravel beneath his feet.

Looking behind him, he saw Hadvar following a little behind. Jon continued onward, every sound like the roar of a dragon to him. He finally arrived at the small ridge that made up his path and slowly stepped along it. Jon stepped onto the thinnest part of the ridge and felt something under his foot give, sending a dozen small chunks of rock splashing into the stream.

His eye instantly went to the bear. Its head slowly rose and it looked around before settling on his figure. It seems to stare at him before giving out a low, "Worf," and laying its head back down

Turning to Hadvar, the man looked on in confusion before he turned to Jon and shrugged.

Shrugging back, Jon kept walking quietly, still wary of the oddly docile bear. Leaving the path they made their way down into another tunnel that was completely illuminated, the end of the path white with light.

Rushing forward, Jon stumbled up the steep path and burst out into the crisp air and just breathed in the clean, fresh air. Beside him, he heard Hadvar doing the same. Stepping forward into this new world, Jon felt freer than he'd felt in years.

* * *

**AN: Imma try and bang out another chapter within the next couple of days, but don't hold me to that.**


End file.
